


In Praise of Silence

by CaptainNautical



Series: Silent Specter [1]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Charles and Arthur love consent, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Muteness, Not Canon Compliant, Other, POV Second Person, Protective Arthur, Reader-Insert, Rip to rockstar but i’m different, Slow Burn, ot3 you and charles and arthur
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:33:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 18,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24603184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainNautical/pseuds/CaptainNautical
Summary: You are the newest member of the Van der Linde gang. You are also a mute that has been given the name Ghost because of your ability to disappear when you want to. A lot of times this means you disappear from peoples memories too and are often overlooked. But not by everyone.(Glad you guys seem to like this. I love hearing what you think so feel free to comment. Thanks for readin)
Relationships: Arthur Morgan/Charles Smith, Arthur Morgan/Charles Smith/Reader, Arthur Morgan/Original Character(s), Arthur Morgan/Reader, Charles Smith (Red Dead Redemption) & You, Charles Smith/Reader
Series: Silent Specter [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1813948
Comments: 80
Kudos: 333





	1. Phantom voice

You were sitting against a tree at Clemens point. It was at the top of the small hill looking down at camp. You were facing more towards the water and looking out at the distant, small islands, but every once and a while you would turn your head and watch the activity below you.

It was a lazy Sunday afternoon. The Van der Linde gang was moving slowly if at all. Dutch was listening to an opera on the gramophone. The low sound drifted amongst the camp and spilled out across the water in a warm orange glow. 

You watched Karen, Tilly, Sean and Lenny play dominoes. Jack and Abigail are sitting on the log by the shore. Jack is talking non stop while Abigail nods knowingly and runs a hand through his hair. Pearson and Grimshaw are fighting over something you can’t really make out. Something about supplies and who’d go get them. Hosea is sitting at a table with a bunch of herbs spread out before him. Probably concocting another tonic. 

You’ve only been with these people a couple months. You honestly don’t really know a lot about them personally, but you’re good at listening. Your silence tends to make people forget you’re there at all. That and for some reason Bill thinks mute means deaf. Honestly, he hasn’t been the first to assume that.

They trusted you despite your silence. You were strong and reliable and good at disappearing when you wanted. You had cemented your place as a valued member of the gang when you proved to them just how good you were at stealing, however. After your first job it had stunned them just how much you were able to lift off random passer-bys. It had gotten you the nickname “ghost”.

A ghost you were. You haunted around camp, helping out with chores and having one sided conversations while someone like Karen or Uncle talked at you for an inordinate amount of time.

Most members didn’t pay too much attention to you unless they needed something. You supposed that was alright. Less trouble.

“Hey.” A calm voice rose you from your thoughts. You looked and saw Charles pacing the rest of the way towards you. You gave him a polite smile and lifted your fingers a bit in greeting. You shifted a bit and leaned forwards; Thinking it was one of those “I need you for something” moments.

He was chewing on the end of a long sprig of grass and not looking at you. His fingers were idly braiding two strands of what looked like yarn and a small feather.

“You mind if I sit with you?” Charles asked finally. 

You shook your head in reply, sitting back into your normal position gently. He sat himself down in the grass with a slight grunt. 

Sometimes you and Charles liked to sit together like this. It wasn’t very often and it was never planned, but you enjoyed his company when you did. He was one of the few people you felt comfortable in sharing your silence with.

“A lone ghost up on the hill.” Charles said in his calm voice. 

You whistled an eerie sort of tune and he chuckled softly. 

“Hey there.” A second voice greeted. You both looked up to see Arthur coming around the other side of the tree. You were surprised to see him.

“Hey Arthur.” Charles replied. You nodded slightly.

“What are you two up to?” Arthur sat himself down on the root of the tree on the other side of you. He pulled out his journal from his satchel. 

“Sitting.” Charles stated. “Watching the water.” 

Charles lazily picked at the grass under him. He looked over at Arthur.

“What about you?” He said over top of you. You suddenly felt in the way.

“Looked after some contacts for Herr Strauss.” Arthur said moodily.

“Ah.”

Arthur started writing in his journal. The three of you fell quiet for a while until Charles nudged you slightly and gave you a quick wink. You looked at him questioningly before he said:

“Did you know Arthur is an artist, ghost?” 

You smiled a tiny bit. You turned your head to Arthur and shook it in reply.

“Oh shut up, Charles.” Arthur huffed, shaking his own head. He glanced up and met your eyes for a second before looking away. “Aint no artist and you know that.”

“That’s not true.” Charles moved. He shifted and stretched his legs out in front of him and leaned back on his arms. “Show ‘em that bird you saw while we were out on that job.” 

Arthur was looking down at his journal and shaking his head. 

“Come on.” Charles urged, kicking grass off his boot, “maybe they’ll know what it was.” 

Arthur sighed and scratched his forehead with the opposite end of his pencil. He flipped around a few pages before thumbing the page and turning it around to show you. 

It was a sketch of a bird sitting on a small branch. There were zig zag type of markings on its wings and the top of its head was shaded darker than the rest. You smiled at the page and up at Arthur.

He was looking at you expectantly and it struck you just how nervous he was behind those eyes. 

The pencil he was drawing with was tucked behind his ear. You pointed at the same spot on your ear and held out your hand.

Arthur raised his eyebrows. He shifted and handed you his pencil. With it you wrote in a free space on the opposite side of the page: _What color?_

“It was uh, gray with a white belly and black and white markings.” He said after reading your message. Charles was watching you both closely. Something had shifted in the air.

You thought for a moment before reaching out again and writing this time next to the bird: _Goldfinch._

“Well I’ll be damed.” Arthur shook his head, looking at the name for a long while. You realized after a moment or two he wasn’t talking about your aviary knowledge. No, this moment had taken a sudden detour; You had communicated to them in some other way than shaking your head yes or no. More than once even.

“Why didn’t we think of writing before?” Charles asked behind you to no one in particular. Apparently the moment had changed for him as well. 

You knew the answer to that question. It was the same answer to why Bill assumed you were deaf. 

“Bunch of dimwits.” Arthur stated. He scratched his beard and looked at his drawing again. “A goldfinch huh?”

You nodded your head and looked down, picking at the grass in front of you. 

You heard the sound of a page flipping.

“Can I ask you somethin?” Arthur said at your shoulder. He moved himself slowly off the tree root and planted himself so he was sitting in the grass now. He must not have realized how close he was. His fingers were thumbing to a blank page in the journal. 

He looked up at you expectantly. You blinked a bit. This was probably the longest you’d talked to Arthur about something that wasn’t pertaining a job. To be fair to him he was busy a lot but... he hadn’t seemed too fond of you before. He even tried to convince Dutch to turn you away the first week. 

But here he was. Arthur turned his journal around to you. The pencil was pressed in the middle of the pages.

You finally nodded your head.

“Well I was just wondering... have you never been able to speak?” The journal moved an inch closer. 

You took it from him and wrote: _I can still use my voice._

Both Arthur and Charles leaned in to read your reply. Arthur seemed surprised by this. Charles remained ever stoic.

“You can? Then why not talk?” He blinked a bit and looked to the side. He was probably wondering if that was offensive or not.

You wrote: _Physician I met once tried to tell me it was a side effect of post traumatic stress. Some crazy man told me I had sinned in a past life._

That got a chuckle from Arthur and a head shake from Charles.

_ I don’t know why.  _ You finished.

“Well,” Arthur pushed his hat up with his thumb, “you’re quite the mystery, ghost.” 

“I get it.” Charles said, making you look at him. “People talk to much in the first place.” 

You tipped your head forward. Very much so.

Arthur hummed in agreement. He was picking at the grass now too. The sun was starting to set. 

You smiled a bit looking from one man to the other. You scratched at your mouth slightly. You picked up the pencil again. 

_ It’s also about trust. _

Arthur looked over at your writing. He nodded his head as if he understood everything now. 

“Well... I appreciate you puttin up with my pryin.” He huffed and got to his feet. “I should be getting over to Strauss before he get’s all fussy on me again.” 

Arthur tipped his hat to you and Charles and left you both to sit on the hill. 

“Dutch works him too hard.” Charles muttered, leaning his arms on his knees. You nod in silent agreement. “He wouldn’t like me sayin this but... He’s done more for us than Dutch ever has.” 

You agree. Of course you do. Even with thinking Arthur wanted you gone you thought that. You especially thought that when Mr.Dutch would fight with Miss.Molly. 

“At least since i’ve been here.” Charles sighs and lightly nudges his hand against your leg. “Pearson looks like he’s about done with dinner.” 

You nod your head slightly and watch him stand. 

“Do ghosts not eat?” He asked with a slight grin. 

You make a face and point at Charles dramatically.

Charles gives a soft gasp. “Eat me?” 

You nod gravely.

He chuckles and shakes his head. “You should do us all a favor and eat Micah first.” 

You laugh. It catches the both of you by surprise. It bubbles up out of your chest and when it reaches your ears it sounds like a stranger. Because it is.

But maybe you can get to know it again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Its about the melancholy folks


	2. Warm brevity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m really glad you guys seem to like this so much. Thanks for readin
> 
> (Oh also content warning for blood and violence)

Arthur stomped past your tent. It only took a glance to tell he was pissed about something. He had a cigarette hanging out of his mouth and he was mumbling angrily about something only he could hear. He took a couple steps past your tent before backing up. When he was in your line of sight again he blew a big puff of smoke out his nose and gestured at you with one hand.

“Come on. I need you for a job.” 

You didn’t even nod. You just grabbed your gun belt and satchel and followed him out to the horses. 

“Hey Morgan!” Bill called after him. Arthur grumbled in his throat as he mounted his horse. “Didn’t Dutch tell you to bring me along with you?” 

The man was standing with his hands on his hips in the field. You paused with your one leg in the stirrup and glanced at Arthur. 

“Williamson, I aint too keen on even looking at you right now.” Arthur flicked his cigarette so it landed in the lake next to you. 

“You and your goddamn temperamental-“ Bill swore and you mounted your horse proper. You gave Arthur a look that he just shook his head to.

“Why take the mute anyways?” Bill huffed. 

“Maybe cause i’m sick of hearin your voice!” Arthur clicked his tongue and his horse started walking away from him. “Go tell Dutch the ghost and I have some O’Driscolls to scope out.” 

All you heard was Bill calling him some more names. Arthur kicked his horse up to a gallop and you whistled, urging your own horse to fly after him. 

“Should be coming through this neck of the woods soon.” Arthur squinted up at the sky. It was well into the afternoon, you didn’t know what time but apparently Arthur did just by looking up at the sun. 

The two of you were sitting behind a fallen tree. You had left your horses by the mouth of the forest you were waiting in. 

In all honesty didn’t know why you were there. Arthur explained to you a group if O’Driscolls had been spotted coming and going on this road. If that was true you were to take them out but leave one to interrogate. 

You didn’t like jobs like this. It felt like the rest of the gang didn’t really pay attention to the fact that these were people with lives you were snuffing out. Stealing was no problem. You could replace a watch. But a person?

You looked up at Arthur and watched him as he leaned his arm on the log and propped his head up with his hand. 

“Trelawney better not be lying about-“ Arthur had turned his head in the middle of speaking and looked at you. He paused. “What?” 

You looked at him some more before shaking your head a bit and turning around so you were facing the direction the rival gang members were to be coming from. 

Arthur was silent for a couple moments before seeming to string his own conclusion together in his head. 

“Is it about Bill?” He asked.

You nodded a little bit without looking at him.

“Aw don’t worry about him,” he sighed and adjusted his hat, “man’s just got an ego the size of this country.” 

You started shaking your head while he was talking. He raised his eyebrows a little. Again without looking you pointed at yourself. 

Another silence.

“Oh.” Arthur let out. “Why bring you?” 

You looked over at Arthur. He met your gaze and shrugged his shoulders. 

“You’re perfectly capable of handling some O’Driscolls.” 

He thought about grabbing a cigarette from his satchel before rethinking it and taking his hand off the bag. You scratched your head and sighed a little.

“Besides,” Arthur crossed his arms on the log and rested his head on his forearm, “he makes me want to tie his belt to the back of a train car.” 

You chuckled a bit and looked down at your rifle. 

“Hey,” Arthur whispered. He nudged you in the side before motioning for you to duck your head. “Listen.” 

It was the sound of a rickety wagon and hooves trecking through a damp forest bed. Then, just faintly, you started to hear voices go along with it. 

“I swear to christ, Bobby!” You heard someone yell in the distance. “If you don’t shut up about your mamas cooking i’m kicking you off this goddamn wagon!” 

“Yer just upset cause that girl in Rhodes called ya pock marked!” A thick country accent replied.

“Aw shut up!” A third announced. 

“Goddamn.” A fourth chimed in. 

You watched as gradually the voices started to get closer. Arthur peered over the log and motioned with his fingers that there were five men on the wagon. You glanced up yourself to confirm this.

Two men were on the front bench. Three were in the back wagon. One of said three was asleep with his head resting on the side facing the two of you.

You watched Arthur carefully. He seemed to recognize these men somehow. To you they just looked like any other idiots but you supposed he was around O’Driscolls a lot more than you. 

Arthur nodded his head to you and cocked his rifle. You raised your eyebrows before doing the same. Your gut twisted and you could feel your heartbeat in your ears, but at the same time you trusted Arthur. You could handle yourself. 

“When I start shooting.” Arthur whispered again, “you take out the legs of the first one that comes out the back of that wagon. Got it?” 

You nodded your head and lifted the rifle to rest on the log. He nodded his head in return and waited for the wagon to get close enough.

“You boys are no fun.” The loud O’Driscoll named Bobby announced. “Back home we-“ 

The blast of Arthur’s rifle drowned out whatever else he was going to say. The bullet whizzed out of the barrel and shot straight through Bobby’s neck. The O’Driscoll toppled onto the driver of the wagon and the rest from there was a chaotic blur. 

All you really remember is the the sound of frightened horses and a wagon toppling over as said horses tried to escape. The first man to hit the ground was the one that had been asleep. You remember the feeling of relief when your bullet hit the thigh of said man. You remember thinking; “Okay good. Good you actually did that.” Before realizing with a sinking feeling there were still three to go. 

Arthur had taken care of both men on the bench. Two to go. You shot another one in the head. One to go. 

Your brows furrowed. Where’d he go? You lifted your head from the log to look around. A gunshot pierced your ears and splinters flew up in front of your face. 

Suddenly you were being dragged and yanked down onto the ground under the cover of the big fallen tree. Two more gunshots rang out. 

Now all you could hear was the howling of the one man you shot in the leg and the ringing in your ears.

“You alright there, ghost?!” Arthur shouted, sticking a finger in his ear and shaking it. 

You nodded your head slightly before he grabbed your hand and pulled you up.

“Nice shootin. You search the other four. Me and your lucky friend here have some things to talk about.” 

You set to rifling through the pockets and trousers of the four dead O’Driscolls. One had a nice silver and gold plated flask. Another had an expensive looking money clip with only ten dollars in it. There wasn’t anything too exciting, really. You searched the overturned wagon and was surprised to find a crate of TNT (your brain screamed the possibility of you hitting the explosives into your head) and some now broken bottles of booze. You only lingered on the strange combination of items for a moment. You scooped up the TNT and placed it carefully in your bag. 

Distantly you could hear Arthur and the other guy you had shot, but you were too busy listening to the ringing in your ears and thinking about being blown up by accident to pay too much attention. 

You sure were paying attention now. 

Arthur was standing over the man with one fist balled in his shirt and the other balled in a bloody fist hovering close to the other’s face.

The rival gang member already had a fat lip and a bloody nose that dripped down off his cheek and into the dirt below him. 

“You watch your goddamn tongue, O’Driscoll.” Arthur threatened in a tone of voice you didn’t recognize. It was cold and angry and felt the same way his bloody fist looked. You wouldn’t admit it, but you were scared of him in that moment. 

“Now I’m gonna ask you again.” Arthur pulled him up a little higher by his shirt. The man did not look light enough to do this. “What business does Colm have in Rhodes?” 

“I don’t kn-“

Arthur punched him again and again, his fists connecting solidly with the guys face and making a gross wet thump that made your face scrunch up. The O’Driscoll started coughing. He shakily held up a hand.

“O-okay. Okay I— fuck he’s-“ another cough, “we were lookin for a good spot to set up camp. H-He didn’t tell none of us why. Take-Take my satchel. I got proof.” 

Arthur let go of him and let the guy land solidly on his back. He grabbed the satchel a couple feet away from him and opened it up. You watched Arthur produce a couple letters and what looked like a bill fold. He turned towards you.

“Hey come and take a look at-“ 

Suddenly the O’Driscoll shot up and grabbed the pistol out of Arthur’s holster. You gasped and without thinking felt your hand fly to your own. Before anyone could take a breath you pulled the trigger... and the O’Driscoll fell backwards with a hole in his chest. 

Arthur didn’t talk much the rest of the evening. You both rode back into camp and hitched up your horses silently. John greeted you at the edge of the woods and walked in beside Arthur’s horse as he explained to John what happened.

“O’Driscolls?” John rasped, “All the way out here?” 

You both nodded your head and remained quiet. John rose his eyebrows at that.

“You been hangin out with our ghost too long, Arthur.” He grinned. “You’ll be mute by the end of summer if you don’t be careful.” 

You decidedly had enough excitement for the day. While the gang sat around the fire finishing up their supper, you sat on a rock by the lake shore on the opposite end. The sound of Javier’s guitar almost made you gravitate closer, but once Uncle started singing you decided you’d stay put after all. 

It was dark save for the bright moon above you. Your head was tilted upwards looking at the stars. Absently you thought of another night long ago when you looked up at the stars just like this. It was your first night with the gang and you were sitting on your bedroll far away from camp. You hadn’t felt welcome enough to stay close. 

You blinked back to the present when you heard a pair of voices in the distance. They weren’t coming from camp. Your hand lowered to your pistol, before you recognized the soft and low tone of Charles Smith.

“I dunno, Arthur. Do you think they’d notice?” 

“Naw.” Arthur replied. It was just one word but there was something gentle in the tone it was said. There was a pause and you looked back up at the sky.

“I don’t think they would,” Arthur continued, “besides if anyone asked i’d just say I needed help tracking or something.” 

“Hosea did ask about running a few errands for him when I had the time.” Charles again.

“See? Come on, Charley, stop bein so worried.”

Charley. 

You blinked a little bit and suddenly felt like you should walk away before they approached fully. You could hear the pebbles under their feet as they walked now. You missed the last couple sentences passed between them, but lapsed back into earshot once more as their footsteps stopped. They must have been right around the bend in front of you.

“Bill was talkin about you and our ghost, by the way.” Charles said.

“Awh hell,” Arthur huffed, “that reminds me. I outta go talk to ‘em.” 

The footsteps started up again. 

You still looked up at the sky, you were trying to trace a constellation with your eyes. 

The footsteps stopped. You looked down to find both Charles and Arthur standing a few feet away from you. Arthur was just slightly in front of Charles. 

“Oh, there you are.” Arthur called. 

You pointed at yourself questioningly, trying not to make it obvious you could hear them.

“Hey there little phantom.” Charles greeted, moving much slower than Arthur. 

You smiled a bit at the name, your cheeks feeling warmer. It was cute. The only person you usually liked calling you little was Javier, since you’re around the same height as him, but didn’t actually mind it from Charles. 

You lifted your hand a little as a greeting.

Arthur stopped in front of you. He placed his hand on his belt and leaned his hips to one side. He looked out at the lake for a few moments. Charles passed behind him and stood next to you.

“Stargazing?” He asked.

You nodded your head. 

He was looking towards the crowd at the camp fire. Charles shifted and cleared his throat.

“I’m gonna go talk to old Hosea before he goes to bed. You two have a good evening.” 

“See ya, Charles.” Arthur hummed. 

You didn’t bother responding, he had already walked away. 

Arthur and you sat in another lapse of silence. You tried not to stare at him, but found you couldn’t really help it. 

You were thinking about how he was a completely different person than back in the forest. This Arthur was calm and reserved. You recognized that handsome face under his hat here. This was the Arthur that drew birds and plants. He just happened to have the coarse hands of someone that could snap you in half without even trying.

For some reason an odd thrill went up your back at the thought. 

Arthur turned to look at you and you looked away.

“I uh... I just wanted to thank you.” Arthur said awkwardly. “You really did great out there and uh well... I’m certain I’d have a bullet inside me now if you hadn’t been there.”

You looked back up at him. He shifted to lean on his other leg.

“I know I aint... been too easy on you since you got here.” He scratched the back of his head and adjusted his hat. “Hell I wanted to throw you out that first night you’s was with us but...” 

Arthur shook his head. 

“You’re alright, ghost. I’m glad to have you with us.” 

You blinked a little and looked downwards. You didn’t really know what to do or how to respond. Arthur cleared his throat again. 

“That’s alright.” He said, his voice a little lower, “I may not understand why you’re silent but... well, I can respect it.” 

He walked up and past you. On his way by he patted you on the shoulder, his big hand giving you a squeeze there before he disappeared back into camp.

“Arthur Morgan!” You heard a drunk reverend shout.

You sat there on the rock in your own silent world. It was cold sitting there, but your shoulder felt like it was on fire. 


	3. Choke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Hey we’re at shady belle now btw forgive my time jump)

“There a reason you’re on my roof?” You heard Arthur say behind you. He clicked his squeaky bedroom door shut behind him, the old floorboards groaning as he paced to the window and leant against it. 

You wanted to tell him it wasn’t  his roof, but of course you didn’t. You shrugged your shoulders instead. 

This wasn’t the first time you’d climbed out here. There was a hole in Arthur’s room that lead to a roof. Of course you were going to sit on it. It just happened to be the first time Arthur caught you. 

It was actually the first time he’d been back in a while. Charles and Arthur went on a “hunting trip” right after Arthur was away doing some other job. 

It was startling how different it was when they weren’t around. 

You heard Arthur making a noise behind you and saw him climbing out the broken window to the roof. He put a hand on your shoulder for support as he hooked his other leg up and around. Arthur gave you a pat on said shoulder and carefully sat down beside you. 

“Better be careful.” He grunted, shifting around and swiping a piece of ivy off his boot. “I’ve been ‘gainin a few pounds again. Wouldn’t that be fun to fall right through this.” 

You raised your eyebrows and for good measure scooted an inch away from Arthur. He laughed and hit you on the shoulder and you grinned to yourself. You liked his laugh. 

It was muggy and grey outside. The rain had finally let up in Lemoyne and gave way to a sticky aftermath, only amplified by the bugginess of the swamp. Half the gang had stayed inside today out of refusal to do anything in such weather. You were grateful for that. You needed to get away. 

Arthur dug into his satchel and produced his journal. He flipped around a couple pages before landing on one and showing it to you.

It was a two page drawing of what looked like a white fox. You raised your eyebrows at Arthur. Your index finger pointed along the fur Arthur had kept white.

He nodded his head. “White as snow. Aint that amazing?” 

You nodded with him and tapped once on the drawing. You smiled down at it and up at him. 

He’d been showing you more and more of his drawings since that day on the hill with you and Charles. It felt special. Something he was so guarded about with everyone else but you, a ghost, who got to see behind his scary outlaw mask so frequently. A part of you said it was because you couldn’t insult him outwardly but you ignored that thought. 

“What’d you get up to while I was gone?” Arthur asked after he lit a cigarette. He offered you one and you shook your head. He offered you the journal instead with the pencil bookmarking the page reserved for a ghost’s handwriting. The spread was starting to fill up with your small comments or answers or questions. 

You looked at the page for a moment and thought about not answering. You could see out of the corner of your eye that Arthur was trying to make it inconspicuous he was watching. 

_ Job with Micah and Javier.  _ You wrote and showed him.

Arthur blew smoke in the opposite direction and nodded his head. 

“How’d you get on?” 

Again you hesitated. You tapped the pencil against the paper. 

_ Fine. Made off with a stagecoach to sell. Picked a few pockets.  _

Arthur looked at your words and scratched his beard. 

“Don’t seem too thrilled.” 

You folded the book closed and set it in between the two of you. 

You weren’t. The job hadn’t gone bad. The way back to camp had. 

You placed your arms on your knees and shrugged. The breeze pushed warm air across your face, making you wipe it offas if it were tangible. 

Arthur leaned forward with you. 

“Did somethin happen?” He flicked his cigarette away after snuffing it out on the roof. You glanced over at him and then away. You shook your head slowly. 

“Awrite... well-“ His eyes went from your profile to your neck. You were wearing a bandana but Arthur nudged it aside with his calloused fingers. 

There were four bruise marks in a row wrapping around your throat. The fifth was on the other side but he couldn’t see that. You were looking down at the ground.

Arthur picked up the journal and made you take hold of it. He had shifted so he was facing you more.

“Ghost, you better tell me what happened right now.” His jaw had clicked. 

Your own jaw was working against itself. You scrunched up your face a bit and tried to give the journal back.

“You don’t tell me and i’ll go and make Javier. You know I won’t be as nice askin.” He warned. 

You sighed. 

It only took one word for him to stand up. You had just written down a name.

“Micah!” Arthur shouted, turning and crawling back through the window. You tried to grab him and scrambled up to chase after him. 

You ran to Charles in the end because you knew Arthur was like a freight train when he had his mind on something. You found the man sitting under a tree chipping away at an arrow. He looked up at you.

“Hey there g-... what’s up?” 

You grabbed his arm and tugged him up. He ran after you as soon as you sprinted away. 

You ran around the house just in time to see Arthur storming up to Micah and knocking him out of the chair he sat in. He knocked the plate of stew out of Micah’s stunned hands and seized a hold of his shirt to yank him upwards. You made a noise in your throat and stumbled over yourself. Charles scooped you up and quickly set you back on your feet before running past you.

“Arthur stop it!” Charles called. 

The whole gang was looking now. 

“What the fuck, pal?” Micah spat up at Arthur. “You gonna tell me what this is about?” 

“Did you put your hands on that kid?” Arthur demanded. 

Even Micah seemed a little put off by how angry Arthur was. 

“What kid?” He laughed.

“Ghost, goddamnit!” Arthur shouted. 

“You don’t even know how old it is!” Micah laughed some more. 

“Come on Arthur,” Charles was there now. He held onto his arm only for Arthur to shrug him off.

“I said did you put your fucking hands on them?” He shouted again. 

“Yeah, I did!” Micah wriggled a bit under Arthur’s hold. “Sick of getting the evil eye all the time!”

Arthur started punching him then. 

It took Charles, Hosea and Pearson to drag him off Micah. Dutch strolled off the porch of Shady Belle and walked past you with a lit cigar in between his teeth. 

“You fucking attacked me!” Micah was shouting with a bloody nose. 

“You lay another finger on them and i’ll do a lot more than that you rat!”

“Gentleman!” Dutch announced with raised hands.

“I told you I wanted him gone, Dutch.” Arthur shook Hosea off of him. He walked up to Dutch and pointed a finger from him to Micah. “Now either you do something about him or I will.” 

“Tough guys just upset I roughed up his dog, Dutch.” Micah spat blood on the ground.

Arthur lunged at him again. Charles anticipated this and let him run into his chest as Hosea grabbed his shirt. 

“Now Arthur, calm down, son.” Hosea tried to reason. 

“Bastard tried to choke ‘em out, Hosea.” Arthur caught sight of you and motioned his arm towards you. 

“Is that true, ghost?” Hosea asked as he turned towards you. 

You weren’t sure if they could see your neck from here. 

Before every pair of eyes could turn towards you, you decided to run away. 

“Ghost?” You heard a few voices say.

You swung your leg over the saddle of your horse.

“Way to go, Morgan!” A raspy voice said.

“Me?!” 

You sped away and out the entrance of Shady Belle down a dirt path. The wind whipped past your ears and the trees blurred together in a rush. Your horse huffed underneath you and you patted her neck. You were taking a ride. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fuck Micah all my homies hate Micah


	4. Screams and Whispers

You stopped in the middle of a field out in god forsaken nowhere. You slipped yourself off your horse and took a few steps forward.

It was dark now and you were alone. The field you stood on now was hilly and uneven and from where you stood you could look down and see a big stretch of land in front of you. A big stretch of emptiness. You hadn’t seen or heard another person for maybe fifteen minutes now. 

Your hands were shaking at your sides. You felt something emanating from your balled fists. It was a white hot emotion that made you scrunch up your face with effort. The shaking travelled up your arms and down your spine. It rattled inside your chest and spilled this emotion into your lungs. You unclenched your hands and grabbed your head.

You screamed louder than you ever had before. That white hot fury bubbled up and cascaded out of your mouth at a velocity you’d never felt before. You screamed and screamed and screamed. Your hands twisted into your hair and you buckled your knees slightly as your lungs compressed. 

It could have sounded like bloody fucking murder for all you cared. You didn’t hear a thing. Just white noise and frustration, anger, pain, rage, sadness, anything and everything escaped your lungs and shot out your throat. 

Your poor windpipe faltered and you choked off the last part of your cacophony. You stumbled backwards and landed on the ground panting. 

Then, and only then, you cried. 

You rode back to Shady Belle quietly. You tied up your horse with the others and fed her an extra apple. She nipped at your shirt before you left and you patted her nose softly.

I’ll be alright, you told her silently. 

“Wha-who’s-who’s there?” You heard a very tired sounding Lenny sputter to life next to the tattered brick gate. 

You lifted your hand and whistled your soft three tone greeting (something you used as a signal often). 

“Oh, ghost.” Lenny sighed, shifting backwards again. “Good to-“ he yawned, “-good to see you back.” 

You slipped past him. He probably wouldn’t even remember he’d seen you anyway. 

“Quite the commotion when you left.” He said dreamily, as if it didn’t matter. Maybe it didn’t. 

You were here to get your things and leave. It was lucky you didn’t have much to begin with. What you did have was precious to you though and worth the risk of running into anyone else. 

Get in. Get paid. Slip away. That’s how you lived for most of your life. If things got complicated you might have skipped step two and just disappeared to save yourself the trouble, but they rarely did. 

Things felt complicated now. 

Micah was dangerous. He was dangerous when he pointed a gun at you or held you up by just your throat, yeah, but he was also clever. He had shimmied his way into Dutch’s good favor and the man could hardly see past his own nose now because all he saw was Micah calling him brilliant. All Dutch saw was Micah bending over backwards to play the good little lemming. Of course he wouldn’t kick Micah out. 

So you were leaving. 

You tried not to think about the heaviness in your chest as you walked quietly through camp. You ignored how hard it was to stop yourself from looking up towards Arthur’s room or Charles’ tent. The later of which was empty right now. 

You made it to your little tent at the edge of camp and gathered up your things. You debated leaving a note. 

No... it felt too final and real to write it down like that. 

_ Write. _

You lifted your head to the peg you usually hung your satchel on and cursed when you found it wasn’t there. You must have left it on Arthur’s roof. 

The more you looked around the more sure you were it was up there. You had left so fast to chase after him...

You cursed again and rubbed your face with both hands.

You pushed the door open slowly, even holding onto both sides so it wouldn’t creak as loud as usual. You took a tentative step into the room and looked to your left. 

Arthur was asleep on his bed. He slept on his side with a warm looking blanket covering up to his waist. His one arm was dangling over the side of the bed. It was being held by Charles. 

Charles himself was sitting on the ground next to Arthur’s bed. His body was leaning over onto the bed and his head was resting on his free arm. 

It struck you how gentle this scene was. You almost wanted to turn back around and leave them in peace. They probably didn’t get to have very many moments like this... You looked down at the ground and up towards the broken window. Your satchel was sitting on the nightstand next to the opening. You grabbed it and looped it around your head slowly. Once the familiar weight was resting on you once more you turned back around.

Charles had lifted his head and was looking at you quietly. His fingers were still interlocked with Arthur’s.

He looked like an owl to you then. Silent and observant and alert. You wondered what you looked like to him. You looked down at your feet. 

“You’re leaving.” He stated. 

You heard some rustling and looked up to see Charles moving Arthur’s arm so it rested on the bed. Arthur huffed softly in his sleep and slowly rolled over to his other side. Charles stood and took a step closer. You took a step away. 

“Just like that?” His voice was low and soft, but it didn’t hide how hurt he was. You again looked away from him. 

No, Charles, it wasn’t just like that. 

“You’re gonna leave us because of him?” The way he said us felt different. You couldn’t tell what “us” he meant. You looked up at the door. Charles took another step, the floor protesting softly under him.

“Arthur stood up for you. You owe him more than just running away.” 

“I don’t owe nobody nothing.” It spat out of your throat like a rocket. You felt hot tears stinging your eyes. You weren’t even aware of what you’d just done. “If there’s anyone I owe anything to it’s myself.” 

Your voice was raspy and wavering. It could have been from a number of things. The screaming fit you just had chief among them. 

You took a step forward and gripped the doorknob hard. 

“I can’t let two men stand in the way of my life.” 

There was a loud silence that followed. One full of mixed emotions and a humid night. The crickets outside sung your swan song. 

“Who’s standing in your way, ghost?” Charles’ voice was gentle. “What life are you running to? What life are you running from?” 

Your eyes well up with frustrated tears. You let go of the doorknob. 

“You don’t know me at all, Charles.” 

He took another step forward. He grabbed your arm.

“No ghost, I _do_ know you. I know you wouldn’t be talking to me at all if this didn’t mean something to you.” 

It hit you hard then. You hadn’t even realized you’d been talking all this time. Your face dropped from the tight grimace you wore to a shocked and numb one. You swallowed.

“This...” you shrugged out of Charles’ hold and motioned between you, him and Arthur. There were tears running down your face and welling up hot in your eyes. “I don’t know what we are... or what you want from me.” 

You voice sounded labored and strained. It actually sounded a lot like John Marston’s at the moment. 

Charles sighed and looked down.

“Neither do we.” He whispered. “We just don’t want to lose you before we... before we figure it out.” 

You felt light headed and weak all the sudden. Your throat closed in on itself and you sniffed, wavering a bit and slowly lowering yourself to the floor. 

Charles crouched down in front of you. He reached out and placed his hand on your arm. 

“What do _you_ want, little ghost?” He whispered.

You felt exhausted and drained, but that touch on your arm was the closest to warmth you had felt in a long time. The only way you could think to respond now was to lean forward. You rested your forehead on Charles’ arm and closed your eyes. 

“Charles?” You heard a tired sounding voice yawn. Arthur’s bed shifted and huffed. He sounded miles away. “Ghost?” 


	5. Breath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry bout the late update for this one. I’ve been wrestling with it for a bit.  
> Thanks for readin as always

Time moved on, as it so stubbornly does. You stayed. Against your better judgement and perhaps even your well being. 

It was subtle at first but the gang was treating you different. You got polite hellos and a lot more one sided conversationalists these days. Even Dutch would talk to you once and a while. Micah stayed, of course, but you mostly just kept your distance. 

You had a pair of shadows now. Whenever you, Arthur and Charles were at camp at the same time the three of you were almost never seen apart. It wasn’t like you traveled in some kind of a pack or anything. You just always gravitated towards one another. 

Having Charles and Arthur around you almost forced the rest of the camp to like you. Two of the most reliable men in camp, and their ghost. 

Whatever the three of you were was working. Working and progressing slowly, but working. 

You were sitting on the edge of an embankment watching Arthur fish. He was trying to catch that bluegill Kieren keeps prattling on about. You, Arthur and Charles set up camp here and were planning on hunting in the morning. The small fire keeping the pot of coffee you brewed warm was just a few yards from where you sat. Charles was sitting next to you and whenever Arthur hooked a fish you and him would bet on if it would be the so called “legendary” one or not. You were apparently a lot more optimistic than Charles who continuously shook his head when a fish was on.

Charles was laying on his stomach with his hands idly picking at the grass. You were sitting cross legged with your journal in your lap. You had a tally going of who won when. Charles was in the lead. Also on the page was small notes about the conversation you had with Charles that you couldn’t explain in any other way.

He had kept your voice to himself. That night at Shady Belle had ended with the three of you sitting close to one another on the bed, Charles and Arthur speaking in hushed tones while you nodded or shook your head. You woke up with your head in Charle’s lap and hand held by a snoring Arthur. The idea of running away fled to the back of your mind.

Every once and a while it would creep back up for you to think about, but it never stayed long. 

As far as Arthur knew, though, you hadn’t spoken at all. You appreciated Charles recognizing your want to keep it that way. 

“Ah hell.” Arthur huffed, pulling in his line and subsequently you back from your thoughts. “I’m too tired to keep goin.”

You ate the regular, non-legendary, fish Arthur caught that night. You ate around the fire and smiled in amusement as Arthur and Charles got in a small argument about who was the better cook. They settled it by stating that you were in fact the better cook and you nodded your head proudly to agree with them. 

After dinner Charles played his Harmonica while Arthur leaned back against a log nearby the fire. He motioned you over when he caught you looking and you crawled over to sit beside him. 

“Don’t gotta be so secretive out here.” He murmured as you settled in next to him. He wrapped an arm around your waist and ended up tugging you so you sat in between his legs. “You want something, you go ahead and do it.” 

This was the farthest the three of you had gotten physically. You sat close and embraced and explored one another with your hands, but it usually stopped there. This was, truthfully, your doing. Trust wasn’t something you gave out easy and the two men with you knew that. They never pushed you. They waited and asked and when you accepted something new they treated you like a gift to be cherished. 

It was all so new and overwhelming for you at times. You wanted nothing else.

Arthur had both hands around you now. He was stroking your arm lightly where his hand rested against it. His other hand was currently being inspected by you. 

You turned it around and pressed your fingers against it like a piece of art. Your thumb ghosted against a fading scar on the pad of his palm. Your fingers brushed lightly against calloused knuckles and worn fingernails. 

Charles was watching you fondly as he played a soft tune. 

You finally set Arthur’s hand back down and he chuckled, wrapping his arm around your waist to hold you close.He held up his hand and turned it around.

“Big ol cowpoke hands.” He hummed. “Bout as worn and dirty as the rest of me.” 

You shook your head and grabbed his hand again. You pulled it close and pressed a kiss in the middle of his palm. You happened to like his dirty cowpoke hand. 

Arthur paused after your kiss. You felt him look down at you slightly and you lifted your head up towards him. You didn’t hear Charles stop playing his harmonica. Arthur smiled and stroked two fingers down your cheek. 

He hooked those fingers under the corner of your jaw and guided your face upwards towards him. Your breath was gone. Arthur’s face was so close to yours but he stopped and waited. He looked at you and blinked slowly, asking without saying anything. You barely nodded your head, your face tipping forward. Arthur cupped your jaw fully and softly pressed his lips against yours. 

It took you a minute to let yourself fall into him. Your shoulders relaxed and you press your head up, hand holding onto his shirt. You kissed back and forth gently. Arthur pushed your head backwards softly with a kiss and you made a soft noise, pushing back against him. 

Arthur grinned against you and pulled himself back a bit. 

“Damn.” Charles huffed. You looked and found him a lot closer than before. He was rubbing his hand up and down his chest. He looked bewildered in a way that made your stomach flutter. 

“This how you feel watchin us kiss?” 

You felt heat rise to your cheeks. You pressed a hand to your face and gave a goofy sort of smile. 

“Awh hell.” Arthur reached out and tugged on Charles’ pant leg. “Been hoggin our darlin over here.” 

Charles sidled up in front of you on Arthur’s lap. He reached out and stroked your hair back from your forehead. 

“This alright with you, little ghost?” He said lowly. 

Before you knew it you were kissing Charles. Your hand was pressed against his chest softly while his wrapped around your neck and threaded through the hairs at your nape. You shivered and Arthur pressed up against your back, planting a soft kiss on the back of your head. 

You gasped a little and Charles caught your mouth, moving himself upwards and tilting your head to deepen the kiss. You let out a groan, your eyes fluttering slightly. 

“You make real pretty noises when you’re bein kissed.” Arthur breathed on your neck. 

“In between two men.” Charles grinned.

You wondered what you looked like. Sitting on the lap of one man while another kissed you. Suddenly you were very aware of what you looked like. How close both of them were and just exactly what you were doing. Your breath caught in your throat and you opened your eyes a bit. 

Panic attacks were sort of different for you. They’re probably different for everybody, course, but you never met someone that admitted they got them to you. You’d probably be thrown and locked away somewhere if you talked about it to the wrong person. You had gone and talked to the wrong person before but that was something for another time. 

Right now you were barely breathing. You sat rigid and completely still, eyes fixed on a spot in the grass next to Charles. Someone said your name and you blinked, flickering your eyes up and looking unfocused at Charles’ face.

“Charles?” 

“I think... Hang on, Arthur.”

“Should I eh...”

“No, no, don’t move.”

“Alright...” 

“Ghost?”

A face ducked a bit to get back into your line of vision. It had slowly sunk back to the ground. Again your eyes flicked onto a familiar face. The edges of your emotions felt blurred.

“Hey. I’m gonna touch your arm now. Is that okay, Ghost?” 

You blinked. 

“Stay with us, Darlin.” You heard behind you. 

Slowly you nodded your head.

They somehow coerced you off of Arthur’s lap. You were ushered inside the tent and sat down on a bed roll. Something was draped over your shoulders and it took you a minute to realize it was Arthur’s heavy winter jacket.

When you looked up you realized where you were again. You gasped soft in your throat and shuddered a bit, your hand coming up to your mouth. 

“I-“ You pressed a hand against your lips. 

“Hey.” Charles sat down next to you on his bedroll. He wrapped his hand gently around your ankle. “It’s alright.” 

The weight of Arthur’s jacket on you felt like some sort of anchor. Like if Charles let go and Arthur took his jacket off you’d start to float away. 

Arthur was crouched at the entrance of the tent. He looked worried to come closer. 

Charles squeezed his fingers softly to get your attention. When you looked up he was smiling at you gently.

“How about we get some rest?” He said.

You looked at him. Your hand wrapped around his and you frowned. Had you just ruined something? You thought of going to get your journal, but Arthur had crawled in and was sitting down next to you. Your thighs were touching. It felt a lot like that evening at Clemens point.

“...’m sorry.” You muttered quietly. 

Arthur looked surprised. He turned to you and looked up to Charles.

“Ghost, you aint got nothin...” he trailed off.

“We love you.” Charles finished.

“We love you.” Arthur echoed quietly. His hand ran up and down your back once. 

We love you. We love you. We love you.

We love you. 

You moved and slowly kissed both men on the jaw. You loved them. 


	6. Observant Ghoul

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had some bad writers block but we’re back at it

“Hey there, ghost. Would you mind helping an old man out with these crates?” Hosea passed you with an arm full of wooden crates filled with bottles that clinked softly as he stepped. You nodded and hopped off the porch, retracing his steps and grabbing two to carry yourself. 

When you rounded the corner Hosea was bent over slightly coughing his brains out. You placed the crates on the table and cautiously went over to him. You placed a hand on his back in between his shoulder blades. You honestly didn’t know why. It seemed like something that you’d find comforting. 

“Hoo...” Hosea breathed out, a low whistling sort of noise escaping his lungs as he finally calmed down from the coughing fit. “Thanks Ghost. I’m fine really.” 

You blinked at his smile and shook your head. 

“Nawh come on.” He smiled a little more genuine as the color returned to his face. “Don’t go fretting over a geezer like me.”

He turned around and you realized he was about to go and grab another crate. You protested and stood in front of him. You gently put your hands on his shoulders and steered him backwards until he sat down in the chair.

“Really now I-“ 

You held up your finger to him sternly and shook your head. He sighed and waved his hand.

“Go on then.” Hosea chuckled, grabbing one of the crates and pulling it closer to him. 

You walked back around Shady Belle to the wagon and hopped up into it to grab another crate. It must’ve been moonshine or something. Or it could’ve been actual non-illegal beer. 

Your mind wandered for a bit as you lugged all of the boxes off the wagon or right to the side of it so you could grab it easier. You worried about Hosea, wondering if you should bring it up to Arthur later. 

A soft breeze ran through your hair and you hummed to yourself, content with your job for Hosea. He worked too hard. It felt good to help out a bit. 

With only one more crate to go you closed up the back of the wagon and locked it. 

“Something just don’t sit right with me, boss.” 

You lifted your head, your hands stilling on the wagons bolt. That was Micah. What was he up to? 

“Your history with that kid precedes you, Micah.” That was Dutch’s voice. 

Your eyebrows knit together and you moved around to the other side of the wagon. You could hear their voices coming from close by and when you moved just a bit you could make out the outline of Micah’s hat by a tree. You turned in the opposite direction, pretending to be interested in a bullet hole on the wagon. There were actually a lot of them...

“I’m just sayin I don’t get a good feeling around that specter is all, Dutch.” 

You felt air breath sharply out of your nose and not come back in. Your finger had been tracing one of the splinter marks and was now frozen on top of it. 

“So what?” Dutch finally replied.

“So nothing. I’m just talking is all.” 

“Hm...Well,” you heard the familiar pause of Dutch dragging on a cigar. You didn’t stick around to find out what he said in reply. Your ears were ringing and your thoughts bounced around and collided with each other as your fingers found the last crate and carried it to Hosea.

“You get lost?” Hosea chuckled. He had some of the bottles spread out around him. Some were those tonics that he tended to make when Arthur brought him the right ingredients, the others you didn’t really recognize. 

It didn’t matter anyway. You nodded your head to Hosea when he thanked you and walked away from him. You stared at the ground as you rounded Shady Belle and put your hand on the chipped siding. 

You breathed. 

In and out. 

You saw Charles standing at Pearson’s wagon. He was listening politely but with that serious look he always wore. He was probably being told they needed more meat or something. You started walking towards him. Why did he always look like an angel to you? He always had this soft sort of glow around him when you needed him. 

The answer was that it was well into the afternoon and he was standing with his back to the sun but, it was alright to think otherwise. 

“Hm...” Charles looked down at what you wrote him again. You were standing beside the little fishing hut. Your arms were crossed and you looked out over the dock, wondering if that movement in the distance was an alligator slinking back into the swamp. 

“I don’t like it.” Charles said for what was the second or third time. 

You looked up at him and brought your thumb to your mouth to bite at your fingernail. You shook your head in agreement. You didn’t like it either.

“Hey.” Charles murmured. He bumped your elbow softly with the journal. You turned your head and caught his gaze. He smiled at you and leaned forward. He pressed a kiss in between your eyebrows. “It’s alright. Micah’s good at talking Dutch into something, but he know’s how close you are to Arthur. That’s got to mean something to him.” 

You let out a sort of sigh. You looked down and back at him. You pointed at him, holding your finger to his chest as you mouthed ‘you too’. 

Charles waved the journal a bit. 

“Like he cares what I think.” He was grinning but you frowned a bit. “Arthur’s practically his son.” 

You didn’t nod right away that time. You stared out at the murky water and chewed on your finger. In the back of your mind something told you that didn’t matter. If it did matter, Micah would be gone in the first place. 

“There you two are.” You heard someone walk up the three steps to the dock. You turned and found Arthur walking towards you and Charles. “Grimshaw told me she saw you two sneak away back here. Thought I’d come and interrupt.” 

It was one of the rare occasions he had his hat off during the day. With this you got to see how long his hair was getting. It was down just passed his ears now. Charles preferred it longer cause he liked the braid it. You thought it looked good however he wanted. Unless he buzzed it all off because then you would be furious at him. Both Charles and he had too nice a head of hair to get rid of all of it. 

Arthur came up beside Charles and wrapped his arm around his waist. He pressed a kiss to his temple and looked at you fondly, about to move to you before he paused.

“Wait,” he said, “did I actually miss somethin?” 

Charles got angry sometimes. Just like everyone, of course. He lost his temper a few times around you about something he couldn’t control or something that had gone wrong where he wanted it to go right and you watched as this stoic and silent man you came to know fumed in his own way. He would curse and ball his fists. He would shout but never really at anyone unless he thought they deserved it. You heard about a time Charles had killed some men over the slaughtering of bisons and you could see it so clearly; Charles firing a bullet in between a man’s eyes as he called him a monster. 

But you could also see the aftermath of such anger. Charles often came down from bouts of fury and crashed in a canyon of silence. He would sit at the edge of camp and whittle until whatever stick he was carving into was a splinter. He got this far off expression in his eyes. Charles was very aware of his anger in those moments. You figured it scared him. He never liked being loud or saying much, and you could tell a similar remorse washed over him that you felt yourself. You understood his need for silence in those moments. He probably wished for it when others around him got angry. 

Arthur was something else entirely. His anger came from a place deep inside him you did not know. You weren’t afraid of Charles when he was angry. You were afraid of Arthur’s anger.

It was like something in him just turned off. Or maybe a part of him hidden deep inside turned itself on. Maybe Arthur was hiding a monster in his chest all the time; A monster that if given the chance would beat a man senseless for looking at him funny. 

But you also knew Arthur like you knew Charles. You knew what he looked like after the storm died down. After he walked away with bloody knuckles and collapsed in on himself because he had done it again. He had lost control again, had let himself get swept up in emotion again. 

There was something so profoundly... sensitive about Arthur. He would sit and draw a sunset or a baby duckling following a mother. He would hold you in his lap and look at you like you were the best thing to ever happen to him. You had never seen him cry. You wished he would. Maybe then his fury could have another outlet. Maybe then you wouldn’t be so nervous to tell him about Micah. 

When you did he immediately tensed up. He gripped the journal in his hand a similar way he had on the roof and looked at you seriously. 

“And he was sayin this to Dutch?” He said, anger bubbling in his throat. 

You blinked, face falling. Your feet stepped away from him. He had startled you with the intensity in his voice.

He faltered.

“Arthur.” Charles said gently. He took the book away from him. 

Arthur’s face fell a bit and he looked at Charles. His eyebrows twitched upwards and he looked back to you. You must have looked scared. He stepped forward, all warm and gentle and made a noise in his throat.

“Oh darlin I’m sorry.” He murmured, gathering you up in his arms and pressing in close to you.

You breathed into his shoulder and closed your eyes, pressing your head against his neck.

“I’m a no good outlaw.” He muttered. You shook your head slightly and he let go of you, pulling back a bit and looking down at you. “I just get so goddamn...” 

He breathed and shook his head. You understood. 

“Come on.” Charles said beside you. “There’s nothing we can do right now. Let’s go get some dinner.” 

“Say,” Arthur had perked up a bit. He wore a goofy sort of grin and hooked his thumb in his belt. “How’s about I take you two to dinner in Saint Denis tonight?”

You raised your eyebrows and looked to see Charles wearing the same expression. 

“You want us to get kicked out of the place?” Charles laughed a bit.

“Awh come on!” Arthur huffed. “We don’t gotta stay. We could...” Arthur scratched his head. “Shoot I dunno eat it in a park or something.” 

You smiled wide at that. Charles had a soft expression on his face.

“What?” Arthur asked to both of your looks.

“You can be so terribly romantic when you want to, Arthur Morgan.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again: It’s about the tenderness


	7. Respite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Needed something sweet...  
> Charles centric fic to follow this

You sat down in the middle of Arthur’s room. He looked up from where he was sitting on his bed. His journal was resting on his bent knee, his calloused fingers covered in a light dusting of graphite. 

You looked out the broken window in front of you and fiddled with a loose string on the end of your pants. 

It was a beautiful day. There was a soft summer breeze that blew through the window and brushed your hair back from your face. A willow tree outside swayed back and forth, the soft chatter of it’s leaves rising to your ears. Distantly you heard Charles playing the harmonica somewhere downstairs. 

Arthur didn’t say anything. Not for a while at least. He just continued moving his pencil across the paper. 

And you continued to sit there with your hands in your lap looking out the window. 

“Come and sit with me.” Arthur muttered, scratching his beard and not looking at you. 

You did. You lifted yourself and settled back down on his bed. You moved so your back was against the wall and legs folded up under you. Arthur had his legs folded up and journal resting against them. 

“You know what kinda flower this is?” He asked, pointing at his sketch. You leaned over and studied it a bit before shaking your head.

Arthur scratched his beard again and shook his own head.

“Me neither. It was this purpley...red sorta color.” He muttered. Arthur let his arm move and wrap around your waist. When you didn’t move away he turned his head and pressed a kiss into your hair, tightening his hold a bit and keeping you close. 

You leaned your head on his chest and took a deep breath. Then you closed your eyes and just... listened. 

The trees swayed gently outside. Bugs chirped and sang their shrill bits of music. A soft harmonica played a low, melancholic tune, drifting in and out with the breeze. Somewhere distantly a couple was arguing. Even more distant was the sound of friends talking as they built a fire for the night. 

The sound of Arthur’s heart thudding in his chest. His breath rising and falling. The soft scratch and occasional erasing of a pencil. 

You felt yourself start to drift off. Your hand resting on Arthur’s leg relaxed. 

“I’m somehow always sleepy when I sit with you.” Arthur chuckled. He brought his pencil up and scratched his forehead. “You have this calming sort of presence about yah.” 

You smiled a bit and ran your thumb against his worn jeans.

“Think it’s cause I don’t gotta force our silence.” He murmured. 

You glanced up at him. He really did look tired. You made a noise in your throat and moved, placing a hand on his chest and pushing him backwards. 

As he let himself be moved you took his journal and hat and set them both on the floor beside the bed. When you turned back to him you realized pretty quickly you were straddling his lap. 

The position made your cheeks feel red. You hated how flustered you got around your two men. It was so hard to get around. 

Arthur yawned and casually ran his hands up both your thighs. You shivered and lifted your one had a bit and he blinked sleepily.

“Yer sensitive.” He grinned. You swatted at his hands as he ran both of his up and down slowly. “Gonna be one hell of a day when you let us explore you proper.” 

You stilled, your breath catching just a bit as you flushed and turned your head away. Arthur must have noticed. He moved his hands back down and away from where they wandered at your hips.

“Sorry I know that’s uh... you don’t...” he looked up at the ceiling, “you don’t gotta but if you wanted to...” 

You watched him try to search for the right words. He had this funny look on his face that made you smile. He caught the change in expression.

“What?” 

You leaned forward and rested against his chest. You slotted your arms around him and shook your head.

“Cute.” You murmured in your whispery voice.

Arthur huffed. “Cute?” 

He put his hand under ur chin and lifted until you looked at him. “Now you better take that back, ghost. I aint cute.” 

He was trying to be serious. The smile at the corner of his mouth gave him away. 

You shook your head and rolled out of his hold on your chin. He protested and grabbed you, gathering you up in his big arms and pressing his face into your neck.

“You think a big stinky man like me is cute huh? I’ll show you who’s cute.” 

He nibbled and bit and blew against your neck and all over you. You giggled and yelped and pushed against him, even going so far as to press your whole hand right on his face. 

You settled next to each other. Arthur was spooning you lightly; his hand resting on your waist and arm tucked under the pillow your head rested on. Your bodies weren’t touching, but he was close enough that if you rolled only slightly you’d bump into him. It was mostly because it was still pretty warm out. It was also because it just felt good. Arthur ran his hand lazily up and down your back. It made you shiver every once and a while and he’d mumble something in his half awake voice about being sensitive and getting used to touch. 

You were... getting used to touch that is. It felt right being here with Arthur. The only thing missing was-

“Look at you two.” A deep voice hummed from the door. 

You looked up to see Charles pacing in and kneeling beside the bed. He smiled at you and stroked your face. He then rubbed his hand up Arthur’s arm and you caught a glimpse of Arthur holding onto him momentarily. 

“Come and lay with us.” Arthur hummed, moving you so you were pressed closer against him. You usually slept in the middle if the three of you tried to squeeze together on the bed. You settled in closer and nodded your head in agreement.

Charles smiled again.

“I have to go out and get some things. I’ll be back soon though.” Both you snd Arthur protested and Charles shook his head, leaning over the both of you close. “Plus, someones got to be the productive one out of the three of us.” 

You hooked your arm up and kissed his cheek lightly. Arthur’s hand came up and pressed to the side of Charles’ face. Charles pressed a kiss to his palm and a kiss on your head before standing back up. 

“Don’t stress yourselves out too much, yeah?” He winked and walked to the door. 

“Fine, I get this here ghost to myself.” Arthur hummed, wrapping his arms around you and smothering you again. You made a noise of surprise as he squeezed you close. Charles laughed at the door.

“Good luck, ghost.” With the click of the door he was gone. 

Once again you and Arthur laid together on the bed. The bigger outlaw sighed against you and you breathed slowly. 


	8. Respite II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey sorry for reposting this chapter I just honestly didn’t like it at first. I rewrote some stuff tho so now Charles feels a bit more in character and he gets the extra story bits he deserves

“Hey.” Charles nudged you on the arm lightly. You looked up from your book with raised eyebrows. He motioned with his hand. “Take a ride with me.” 

You followed Charles, tucking your book away in your satchel. He walked slow for you to catch up with him. 

“Want to take you somewhere.” He said as soon as you were side by side. “We’ll just take Taima.” 

You smiled a bit at that and Charles pointedly did not look at you. His face was as serious and stoic as ever. You saw him out, though. He liked riding with you. He liked holding you against his chest and leaning his head against yours and talking in your ear about nature and whatever else he was thinking. 

You liked riding with him too. 

He climbed up on his horse and reached his arm down to you. You grabbed on and were lifted as if you were nothing. Charles scooted back a bit to make room for you on the saddle but not that much. 

“Good?” He asked, tucking his hair behind his ears. 

You adjusted yourself and held onto the horn of the saddle with one hand. You nodded shortly after.

“Where you two off to?” John Marston said from the gazebo. He was smoking and leaning against the entrance of the beaten up awning.

You looked up at Charles for an answer. Usually he made up something when you rode together. Something like scouting or looking for new hunting areas.

“Out.” Is all he said now. You looked back at John. John looked back at you with raised eyebrows. 

You shrugged your shoulders. 

“Alright,” John shrugged himself, “don’t go too stir crazy while Arthur is away, now.” 

You chuckled a bit to yourself. Charles took up the reins and you could feel him shaking his head a bit.

“Yeah well, don’t strain yourself, Marston.” He replied and you could hear the smile in his voice. 

John waved him off, turning around and pacing inside the gazebo. 

You trotted down the dirt path that lead to Shady Belle. Once outside of it Taima was urged into a gallop and you leaned back knowingly. Charles wrapped his arm around your front. You covered his arm with your own. 

You stopped at the base of a very large hill with a huge tree sitting at the top of it. You raised your eyebrows as Charles patted your stomach and slid himself off his horse. You stayed put on Taima, absently stroking her neck as Charles turned back to you.

“Come on then.” He motioned up the hill with his head. 

You slid off Taima and buried her reins in the grass she was eating. You followed Charles slowly up the hill, stopping in the middle and catching your breath before you kept going.

Charles waited for you at the top. He smiled that small smile of his and turned his head. You followed his gaze.

It was gorgeous. The view down the opposite side revealed a good majority of the countryside. You could see distant mountains, the sprawling, dark ocean, towns and the city Saint Denis, and a lake laid out beautifully at the bottom of the hillyou stood on. 

You didn’t move for a long time. You just stood and looked and took everything in slowly. The breeze wafted against your face and you finally heard a noise next to you. Charles was leaning against the trees large trunk.

“Found this spot after a job the other day. We split up and I camped out here for the night.” His hair was blowing in the wind and he gently moved a strand out of his face. “I was surprised with the view when I woke up.” 

He was looking out at it now. You were looking at him. You took a few steps closer to him and nodded your head slowly without really knowing why. He turned his head and looked at you. Charles reached out and took your hand. He looked down at it like he was inspecting it, turning it over once before slotting his fingers in between yours.

“You know...” he trailed off. You looked at him and waited. “Never thought I’d be a romantic.” 

You smiled a little and looked away. 

“That’s Arthur’s job, really.” He muttered and you nodded your head a bit. “Then again I never really...” 

He shook his head at that and remained silent. Charles was so mysterious to you sometimes. If Arthur was a door with a lock on it, Charles was a vault that had long lost it’s key. 

“You two make me soft.” He chuckled a bit. 

You knew exactly how he felt. The three of you were so caught off guard by each other. Three hopeless people spiraling down this relationship full of warmth and tenderness and... Boy were you ever in trouble. 

He pulled you closer to him and turned you around. He wrapped his arms around you and rested his head on yours. 

“Sometimes it scares me.” He said so close it made your back tingle. 

You ran your hand up and down his forearm and nodded. You felt the same way. 

You sat down in the grass together. Charles was sitting on an exposed root while you sat with your back against the tree. 

“I don’t know why you like Trelawney.” Charles muttered. “He talks more than Sean used to.” 

You watched Charles as he said this. You never really knew if he liked Sean or not. He looked at the ground as he said it and scratched his forehead. You were beginning to understand Charle’s subtle language. He missed him. Even if a little. 

You shrugged when Charles looked up.

“Don’t know.” You whispered, your voice sounding strained. “He...” 

You scrunched your face a bit and shook it as if you were shaking your hesitancy away. 

“Good at crowd work.” You finished. 

Charles huffed a bit.

“He is slippery. I almost lost him a couple times yesterday in Saint Denis.” Charles picked up a stick and chucked it away from him. You nodded absently, thinking about the time you and Josiah went “shopping” as the man so extravagantly put it. What it was was stealing from rich folks. You secretly enjoyed the name. 

Trelawney got on your nerves too like just about everyones. He was an asshole, to put it lightly. When you were on a job with him he was slightly less so. You think it was because you impressed him. It was either that or he wasn’t as bad as he seemed around everyone else. But that seemed a little too far fetched for you.

“You know,” Charles said, “you’re gettin better at talking.”

You were watching a stage coach rattle by in the distance. 

“Still sounds like it hurts but, it doesn’t right?” He asked carefully. You glanced at him before shaking your head. 

Charles was a lot better than Arthur at knowing when you weren’t going to elaborate on something. So he fell back into your comfortable silence. 

After a bit he moved and sat next to you. You put the little weeds you picked on his leg and he adjusted his arm so it was propped up behind you. You leaned into his warmth. 

“Easier talking to you.” You said softly. Charles probably only heard since he was so close. He gave you a soft smile. 

“We sat with each other for many nights before all this.” His voice was low and soft, like he was matching yours. 

You nodded your head, smiling a little and looking at him fondly. When Charles looked at you it felt like he was seeing right through you. It was a mystery how you were able to speak to this man. 

He was right too. You and Charles shared so many quiet moments together, just sitting in each others company.

“I always thought you were so mysterious.” Charles grinned. He nudged you a bit when you smiled. “I still do.” 

You looked up at him and caught his eye. There was so much he didn’t know about you. 

You looked back down at the grass. You picked some more little weeds and placed them on his leg. 

“Always thought... you were sexy.” You told him. You barely got it out before cracking your smile. Charles shoved you lightly and you laughed with him. 

“Come on you, let’s get back to Shady Belle.” He heaved himself up but made sure to catch the weeds you had piled on his leg. He placed them on top of your head and started to walk away from you. “Marston probably thinks I’ve ran off with you at this point.” 

You chuckled and followed him. 

“And... leave our...cowboy?” You replied slowly. 

Charles mounted Taima and shook his head. He reached his hand down to you.

“Unthinkable.” 


	9. Anger

Something that rarely happened to you was getting in an argument with someone.You rarely, if ever, spoke so what was there to disagree or get mad at? There was plenty of things, truthfully. No one really liked arguing with a mute though. You figured it took the satisfaction out of it for people. Good. You hated when people yelled and fought around you anyway. 

You’d never considered what it’d be like to get in an argument with someone you cared about. You don’t remember a lot of the time from when you used to talk. You especially wouldn’t remember something like that. 

You wish you did, though. Maybe it’d help prepare you. 

“You’re bein stubborn.” Arthur took his hat off and scrubbed a hand through his hair. 

He was looking down at you from atop his horse. You had to hold your hand up to the sun to see him proper. 

Charles was sitting on his own horse a few yards away. He was talking to Marston and Javier somewhere further into camp. He didn’t seem aware of anything happening.

You gave Arthur a pointed look before turning around and starting to walk away.

“Ghost,” you heard the thud of Arthur dismounting his horse and the heavy steps he took to catch up to you. He grabbed your arm to stop you. “Look.” 

You yanked your hand away, not liking how physical he was getting. He worked his jaw a little, pausing, in obvious irritation, before pointing at you.

“You’re bein careless.” 

You had taken a job with Micah. There were others there with you, but you still did a job with Micah. You, Arthur and Charles had made an agreement that you would stay away from him as much as possible. 

You didn’t see the big deal. It was with others. You thought about the job with Micah and Javier briefly— but this was different. Marston and Kieren had come along too. They wouldn’t...

You stared at Arthur for a few more moments. It made you angry how mad he seemed to be at you. You shook your head and turned away again. 

“What’s the matter with you, ghost?” Arthur asked, his tone rising. He didn’t shout. He obviously had enough sense not to alert the whole camp. It still felt loud to you. He was following you as you walked out past the large tree at the back of Shady Belle. “Stop walkin away from me, _god damn it_.” 

Arthur ran up until he was standing in front of you blocking your path. You almost ran into him before stopping. He continued to speak.

“You can’t go takin-“

You made an irritated noise, scrubbing your face and turning your body to the side. 

“You’re pissin me off now, darlin.” Arthur ground out. “We’re tryin to keep you _safe!_ ” 

He yelled that part and had taken a step forward, leaning his head down and getting in your face. He outstretched his arm and pointed in the direction of where Charles was probably still standing. 

You opened and closed your mouth, something welling up in your throat. Your hands flexed and you took a step forward and back. 

“Don’t be actin like I’m fuckin crazy neither.” Arthur said. “Charles said it himself, Micah’d use anything he could to try and hurt you. Stop running away from me and let’s _talk_ about this!”

Arthur had grabbed your upper arm. As soon as he did something seemed to connect for him. His grip loosened. 

You set your jaw and once again shook out of his hold.

“Don’t f-... don’t fu..cking...” you hesitated and stammered and let out a frustrated yell. You grit your teeth and were angry at yourself for letting frustrated tears well up in your eyes. 

“Ghost,” Arthur’s voice was the opposite of what it had just been. Now it was gentle and soft. For some reason that infuriated you even more. 

“Hey!” Charles’ distant voice called. He was jogging to try and catch up to the both of you. “I heard someone yell. What’s going on?” 

You looked up at him, your brow set and angry, but your eyes watering and your mouth wobbling. 

“I-“ Arthur sounded wounded and helpless. Good. Let him. 

You sniffed and rubbed the back of your hand against your nose. You looked from Charles to Arthur before shaking your head and walking away from them. 

You wiped your eyes, pressing your fingers under them and taking some deep breaths as you composed yourself. You blinked rapidly.

“Oh, ghost.” Ms.Grimshawe called, sounding a lot more chipper than usual. “Would you mind helping me out dear?” 

She only called you dear if she really needed something. You nodded your head and picked up a stew tray from off the ground. You sniffed quietly and rubbed your face, following her as she prattled on about her errand for you.

You pretended you couldn’t hear anything else. Not the rushing in your ears, not the sound of two men talking to one another. 

You were in Rhodes picking up a package and some groceries for Susan. Why she couldn’t do it herself you don’t even remember. She probably told you why. You honestly just took it as an excuse to get out by yourself for a bit. 

You sat down on the bench outside the general store and counted your change. You took the dollar fifty she was paying you and slipped it into your satchel. When you were done you sighed and leaned back.

Rhodes seemed the definition of an American small town. One street that lead to a statue of some old confederate general. If the town weren’t infested with horrible racists and bigots it might have been pretty. Even if it was full of dust and dirt. 

The afternoon sun was starting to set. You hauled yourself up off the bench and sighed, whistling for your horse. She trotted up next to you and nudged against your shoulder. Absently you wrapped your arm around her snout, scratching her cheek and thinking far away thoughts.

You walked with her to the end of town and straight out of it. You weren’t sure why, but you felt like walking back. Your old girl could use a break anyway. 

You walked the usual way back to camp. Which is to say a complicated one. Everyone always impressed upon you the importance of not being followed and never leading anyone back to camp. So you always wandered a bit. You walked in a big zig zagging and meandering path, going whichever way you felt like before eventually settling back onto the dirt road and heading home. 

You were still walking. You and your horse passed the woods by the old battle field. Getting close to camp now. You supposed you should just ride back in. 

Once the reins were back over her head you patted your horses neck. You grabbed the saddle horn to pull yourself up.

“Well how-dy.” A voice emerged from the wood. You flinched a bit in surprise, not hearing anyone approach. “If it aint just the ghoul I was lookin for.” 

You blinked and slowly turned your head. Micah Bell was twirling his hat around his fingers. He sauntered onto the path you were on and smiled big. 

“How are ya, compadre?”The hat was deposited on his head. He came up and patted your horse on the head rather roughly. 

You said nothing. You just looked away and pulled yourself up onto your saddle. 

Micah made a noise by rolling his tongue in an annoyed sort of fashion. He shook his head and sighed, walking up right next to your leg on the saddle.

“I wish we could be friends there, Ghost.” He looked up at you, his brow set and face serious. You stared back at him, holding your reins tight in one fist. There was something about his stare you always hated. Up close you realized it was the way he looked constantly angry. He could smile and his eyebrows would scowl down at you. 

You cleared your throat and looked ahead of yourself.

“You know I heard you talkin the other night.” Micah leaned his arm against your leg and rested casually on you. He scratched his face with his other hand and nodded. “Heard you talkin to yer loverboys back at camp.”

Anger started filling up your gut. Your fingers twitched on the reins. You should smack him over the head. 

“I think this whole _silent_ thing you got goin is just some joke.” Micah gestured outwardly with his fingers. “I think, you is just playing into their poor pathetic hearts.” He punctuated his words by poking you in the leg.

You stared down at him, breathing hard through your nose. 

“I think, the gang just feels sorry for your dumb mouth.” Micah moved and spat on the ground. 

As soon as he was off you you dug your heels into your horse and took off. She huffed at you and hesitated for a moment but ran soon after. You could hear blood rushing through your ears as your vision turned hazy from the quick movement. Your horse took about two full gallops before something happened. 

There was a sharp change in scenery. You made a noise and looked down, something was caught around your middle. 

You had a split second to think this before you were suddenly yanked off your saddle. All the wind rushed out of your lungs in one forced breath and you crashed against the hard dirt under you. Your gut screamed as the lasso dug into your torso, the rest of your body thrumming with a hazy, dull ache of shock. 

Distantly you could hear your horse braying wildly. You curled on your side, gasping down gulps of air, coughing and struggling to try and get to your knees. 

A boot connected with the side of your head.

And suddenly there was nothing.


	10. The Marston’s

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( Hey I just wanna say ty all so much for your comments and kudos. I read and appreciate all of them and wish I had the energy to reply to all of you. You’re the best. 
> 
> Hope you don’t mind a kind of short chapter. )

John leaned back and sighed, a puff of smoke racing upwards in the sky. He put his cigarette in between his teeth and crossed his arms, staring out into the nothingness of the forest that surrounded camp.

He didn’t really mind taking watch at night. He could handle how boring it was, he never really minded just sitting still, and he didn’t even really mind the couple of times he was startled by Arthur or some other fool that would stay out til dawn. 

He didn’t like being alone with himself. John Marston wasn’t the introspective sort of guy. It was hard being stuck with just himself on nights like this. He thought too hard.

John blew smoke out his nose and adjusted where he was leaning. He was at the front gate tonight, watching the long dirt path that lead out of Shady Belle into the dark abyss. 

He thought about Jack and Abigail tonight. He thought about how he had carried his son to bed after sitting with him on the balcony. He thought about Abigails gaze on him when Jack was tucked into bed. He thought about her mistrust, and about how much he loved her. 

John sighed and shook his head, pressing a thumb in between his eyebrows then taking the cigarette out of his mouth. 

“John-“

“Jesus H-“ John shot off the wall and spun around quickly to face the voice behind him. 

Abigail was smiling with her hands up in defense. John deflated and let out a long breath.

“Christ, I didn’t even hear you.” He scooped up the gun he’d dropped.

“I can see that.” She smiled, crossing her arms. 

“Somethin wrong?” 

Abigail tapped her arm and stared out in front of her, her eyes lingering on the dirt path with a far off expression.

“Anyone come in tonight?” She asked, flicking those eyes to John and back. 

John adjusted his hat. “Just Micah.” 

Abigail hummed and shook her head.

“Awful mysterious miss Marston.” John nudged her a little on the elbow. 

Abigail looked up at him with a smile in her eyes but not on her face. She shrugged a little bit.

“I dunno, Mr. Marston.” She murmured. “Arthur’s all worked up over Ghost.” 

John scratched in between his scars. He had only briefly heard about Ghost leavin tonight. He knew something was said between Arthur and Ghost but he tended to try and stay far away from that sort of trouble. 

“And Charles?” John asked.

“Charles thinks Ghost just needs some space.” Abigail yawned a little and wrapped her shawl around her shoulders. John nodded his head.

“I think that’s probably all it is. Sure they’re fine.” He kicked at the grass and looked out at the road. 

“Probably.” Abigail sighed. “Those three...” she trailed off, shaking her head fondly. 

John looked at her. She was tired and beautiful. Her hair was up in a messy bun, the few strands of dark hair falling over her face and in front of her eyes. John reached out and tucked one behind her ear.

“Go get some sleep.” He said. “It’s late.” 

Abigail gave him a small smile, nodding her head and turning. She took one last look out down the dirt path. 

John watched as her eyebrows knit together. Her eyes squinted a bit and she tilted her head to the side. 

“John, look.” 

John heard it before he turned to see it; A lone horse was walking slowly down the path. It came out of the dark shadows and walked almost sleepily to a small patch of grass. After grazing a moment it continued it’s slow pace forwards. A strange noise followed it. It was like the horse was dragging it’s hooves or something. 

Dust and gravel were being kicked up in a hazy cloud behind it. John frowned. Was there something on the ground?

“I think I know that horse.” Abigail said behind him as John took a few steps closer. 

The horse was unhurried and unbothered by the two in front of it. The closer it got the more John could make out. 

“It’s saddles on backwards.” John muttered.

“What?”

John stopped walking forwards. He went very still. The horse whinnied at the man when he saw him, huffing and continuing to walk. 

“Go get Arthur and Charles.” 

Abigail unfolded her arms. “What?” 

“I said go get Arthur and Charles.” John said a little louder.

“John what’s the mat-“ Abigail gasped. 

The horse turned, lifting her head up and reaching for a branch just off the side of the path. It revealed what was being dragged behind it. 

A long dark trail was following the horse. The two watching hadn’t been able to make it out with how dark it was and how far away the horse had come from. Now with it only a couple feet away the Marston’s saw the dirt was being stained dark red. 

It lead right up to a person.

The unconscious body of Ghost was being dragged by their ankles. The rope around their feet wrapped up and tied to the horn of the saddle. 

John dropped his gun and surged forwards. 

Abigail covered her mouth, staring in shock, before recovering and running in the opposite direction. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment; the image of Ghost’s arms dirty and red and limply dragging behind them had been burnt into her mind. She felt panicked tears rising in her eyes and she shook them away. Something rose in her chest and she opened her mouth.

“Arthur! Charles!” 


	11. Sights and Sounds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which the author apologizes for the wait but also explains that he hasn’t wanted to write anything in a while because of The Mental Disorder

For some reason you dreamed of Arthur and Charles kissing. Your brain conjured up the soft image of them sitting by the fire, foreheads pressed together as they spoke their silent language. Charles whispered something and cupped Arthur’s jaw. Arthur’s rough hand gently wrapped around his wrist. Their lips met and they kissed unhurried and unbothered. You watched them fondly until they both seemed to notice you at the same time. They turned their faces to you and smiled in their separate ways. 

The image, regrettably, faded away.

You slid back into reality and blinked up at a hazy outline of trees. The sky was littered with stars. You looked up dumbly at it, barely registering that the trees around you and the ground under you was moving. The night sky was a hazy mix of colors. It was dark blue and purple and mixed together with a pale sort of color. 

A horse neighed somewhere a thousand miles away and your body jerked forwards. You thumped against the ground, arms dragging up over your head at an increased speed than a few seconds ago. You looked up to investigate just in time for something rough to smack against the side of your face.

You were instantly chucked back into darkness.

This time voices lulled you back. It felt like the opposite of being sung to sleep. You slipped back from unconsciousness to a hazy existence. Right now you could only hear what was going on. Even that was diluted.

“John... fuck, fuck...”

“Arthur stop-“

“Jesus christ...”

You tried blinking. Only one of your eyes was cooperating with you. Your eyelid shifted and struggled to open. 

You saw three blurry figures above you. One was moving around and you could feel your feet landing on the soft earth suddenly with a ‘thunk’. 

There was some more tugging on your arms and all around your body. The figures above you were speaking but it was hard to focus on more than one thing right now. One sense at a time. 

You closed your eye.

“Lift their head. Lemme get this around that gash.” 

Fingers looping behind your head gently lifting you upwards. Something scratchy wrapping around your temple. 

“What about that eye?”

“Just looks swollen. Think it’s a black eye. Nothin too...”

You blinked again, trying to open both eyes. The bad one got just a little bit open but closed quickly from the pain. 

The fingers behind your head were back. You were being turned towards one of the figures over you. You tried to focus.

A pair of blue eyes and brown hair. 

Something you couldn’t make out before:

“You with us?” 

You couldn’t move your head. You just looked up at him with blurry eyes. 

“What’s happened?!” A new voice without a name shouted. 

You don’t remember the rest. 

“I know it was you you bastard!” 

“I was in the opposite direction, Morgan!”

“Now calm down. We can’t be pointin fingers on our own.”

“Like hell we can’t! Why are you sticking up for him, Dutch?! What’s wrong with you?” 

“Son you don’t -“

“Micah came in about two hours before Ghost turned up.” 

“How long were you up on watch, Marston?”

“I-“

“Charles. They’re awake. Get these fools out of here.” 

Once again the quiet settled back in your ears. 

The first time you sat up you felt like you were in the middle of a tornado. The whole room went sideways and you slumped forwards to be caught by Hosea and Mary-Beth. 

“Easy does it.” Hosea said, smiling warily. “We aint on a boat there, Ghost.”

If you had the voice you might have said you beg to differ. 

You didn’t see Arthur and Charles for a day or two. Apparently they had been controlling to the point of impeding any type of mending anyone else was trying to do. 

It was alright though. You weren’t really lucid for that time anyway. When you were Hosea liked to tell you how much of a wreck you looked like. Mary-Beth and Abigail or whoever else was there with him would repeatedly tell him to be quiet. 

What did you look like now?

You couldn’t see out of one eye. There was a thick layer of something over your head covering where you had smacked it against the rock. Your whole body thrummed with a dull and sometimes sharp pain. 

Your torso hurt the worst. Being dragged by a horse didn’t exactly do wonders on the skin. You had what felt like a giant grass burn across your shoulder blades. That and all of the pebbles and stones in Lemoyne had found a way to run across your skin. 

Both of your ankles were broken. The left one was the only one that hurt right now, though. 

“You lost so much blood.” Hosea said over you, wiping sweat off your brow with a damp cloth. “It’s good to see some color in your cheeks.” 

You felt sick. Your first fully lucid day of the week and you felt like you were going to melt off your cot. 

You blinked up at the older man. He patted your shoulder softly and wrung out whatever he was using to keep you cool. 

“Hosea?” A voice said distantly. 

“Hm?” He answered, placing the rag against your neck. 

“Uh... it’s Arthur and Charles.” That was Kieren. You were proud of yourself for putting the name together so quick. “Asking if it’s okay yet.” Kieren finished. 

It was quiet for a bit. You had closed your eyes. 

“Sure.” 

“If you upset them again I’m hauling both of you out of here.” 

You blinked. When had they upset you? You thought hard. Nothing came to mind. Had they visited when you were off in dream land? Maybe.

“We’ll be good.” A deeper voice replied quietly. Another grunted. A door clicked shut. 

There were rough fingers against your arm. They traced down your forearm and stopped at the back of your hand. Small, slow circles were rubbed there. You eyes fluttered. 

Charles was smiling down at you. Smiling wasn’t the right word. It was something close to one. He was sitting on a low stool beside your head. You blinked slowly when you felt another hand. 

Arthur was sitting by your legs. He had carefully rested a hand on a patch of skin untouched by bandages just below your knee. His thumb stroked your humming skin. 

He finally caught your eye and slowly his devastated expression changed.

“Hi darlin.” 


	12. Foggy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [coughs from all the dust on this story]

“Hi darlin.”

You just looked at him. He was so handsome. The dark lines under his eyes didn’t suit him. You didn’t like that you had probably been the cause. 

_ Hi. _

There were fingers brushing against your face. You looked up. Charles ran two fingers against your cheek and trailed them down to stop at your chin. He hooked them back up again and repeated the motion a few times. 

Your eyes felt heavier, but you wanted to stay awake. Charles’ soft touch was lulling you away.

You moved your hand and reached up to hold onto Charles’ fingers. He paused and gently took your hand. He brought it up and pressed light and gentle kisses on every one of your knuckles. 

“How are you feeling?” Charles said against your skin, “Anything hurt?” 

_ Yes. My whole body feels like sandpaper is being rubbed into it.  _

You scrunched your face a little before tapping your leg with your free hand.

_ My legs hurt the worst. I think the muscles are torn.  _

Arthur made a noise and shifted. 

“Both?” He asked.

You nodded.

“Would it feel better or worse if I touched them?” 

You thought this over. You wanted his touch quite badly. Not there tho. Instead when Charles finally let your hand settle back on the cot you reached out towards Arthur’s.

He gave a small smile and nodded. Both his hands locked around yours. He leaned his head down and pressed a kiss to your knuckles. His hands were shaking. Arthur rubbed his thumb up and down the back of your hand.

You wanted to apologize. You’d been so stubborn. You shouldn’t have stormed off. You should have...

“I’m so sorry.” Arthur breathed.

You looked at him. Charles crouched slowly beside him.

“I was so hard on you.” Arthur wouldn’t look at you. His fingers shook as he stroked your hand. “I...” he closed his mouth and shook his head. 

_ You were right. I was careless. It was Micah.  _

You shook your head at him and tried to lean forward. You winced and two pairs of hands were easing you back down onto your pillows. You continued shaking your head until tears streamed down your cheeks.

“Hey...” Charles hushed, reaching out and wiping your cheek. He looked over only to find Arthur’s eyes welling up and slowly spilling over when he blinked. “Now that’s...” 

Charles took a breath. He pulled Arthur closer to him and held onto the back of his neck until Arthur bent forward and pressed his face into his shoulder.

“Not fair of you two.” Charles gave a wavering smile. “Can’t go and both cry.” 

His tone was light and teasing. He rubbed circles into the back of Arthur’s nape and squeezed your hand with his. 

Your body throbbed. A deep sort of wracking pain rang up from your ankles and shivered into your bones. It was that exhaustion that pinned you down into unconsciousness for so long. It took your head and plunged it into a fog of pain and heaviness.

Your eyes unfocused and your head went limp, a whine escaping you that made both Charles and Arthur look up. 

“Hurts...” you blubbered out, “hurts bad...”

“Ghost.” 

“Baby, hey-“ 

You felt yourself sink lower as your ankles throbbed with white hot pain. You took a sharp breath in.

“Hosea!” 

“Baby lay back. That’s it. I know. I know.” 

You slipped back into the fog as your point of view changed. You went from sitting up to fully on your back staring at the ceiling. You focused on a piece of paint peeling off up there, before it all went black.


	13. You sensitive thing, you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Its gross how much of a romantic i am

You woke up with Charles looking down at you. He moved his mouth and you blinked slowly, not hearing a word. The sun was shining behind him and distantly you thought about how it was always doing that; making him look like the angel he was.

“Said do you wanna sit outside?” He repeated. 

You looked around you. Your little room was empty. Sunlight filtered in from the old window and you could hear the breeze swaying the trees outside. You turned your head back to Charles.

How were you gonna get there?

Your eyebrows knit together and you looked down at yourself. You were in no state to walk around, as much as you wanted to. 

Charles seemed to catch you thinking.

“Don’t worry about it.” He smiled.

Carefully he wrapped his arm under both your knees. He tipped his head forward and gave you time to wrap your arms around his neck. He then wrapped his other arm around your back and made sure it was below where all the bandages were at your torso. 

“You tap me if it’s too much, alright?” 

You nodded your head and suddenly Charles lifted you off your bed like you were made of nothing. Your head swam a little bit. You closed your eyes to keep the room from spinning, but opened them again once the sun hit your face. 

Charles walked you across the grass and sat you down under one of the willow trees on the far side of camp. There were a few pillows and your journal sitting there along with some water and a couple apples. 

You looked at Charles. He wouldn’t look at you. His mouth was quirked up in a grin. 

Charles sat with you in between his legs. He propped you up with a pillow in between your bodies so he wouldn’t hurt your back. Another one was under your ankles keeping you still and propped up. 

You closed your eyes and tilted your head back. It was a little awkward with the pillow but you rested your head on Charle’s shoulder. He hummed and stroked the back of your neck.

“Been cooped up inside.” He murmured against you. “Think we should do this more.” 

You nodded slightly and turned your head. You closed your eyes against the crook of his neck and sighed. Charles rubbed his hand up and down your arm. 

_I know_ , the gesture said for him. _You’ll get through this._

Would you though? Your fever had yet to break for a few days now. It was tolerable but extremely present. It annoyed you how tiring it was just to sit here with Charles. 

After he convinced you to eat a few apple slices (that you fed yourself thank you very much) and a glass of water, you settled back into Charles. He hummed and ate his own apple as you started to drift off against him. He chewed in your ear (which you stopped with a hand pressed against his face to turn it to the side) and ran his fingertips against your skin. His rough fingers brushed lightly down your forearm and across your knuckles. He pressed his fingers lightly in between yours and kept them there. 

You must have fallen asleep then. You don’t remember the rest. 

“Hi, Charles. I just thought I... oh sorry.”

“S’okay Sadie. They’ve been out for a bit now.”

“How are they?” Sadie sounded unsure of her voice.

A sigh. 

“Mostly the same. Fever. Still in pain.” 

There was movement and a soft nudge.

“They’ll get through this.” Sadie said.

“I know.” Charles replied instantly. 

The air hung around them for a few more moments. 

“Anyways I uh... I thought you should know Arthur’s been arguing with Dutch and Hosea all afternoon.” 

“Mm...”

“You’re really thinking about leaving?” 

Silence. The wind rushed against the grass and in between the trees.

“Things aren’t good around here.” Was all Charles had to say. 

You were mortified by the idea of them leaving the gang because of you. It was all Arthur knew. His whole life. His fathers and his brothers snd sisters were the gang. 

You knew it wasn’t just this. It was the past year encapsulated and brought to a boiling point. You knew it wasn’t just you. But maybe it was in a way. You were like a reflector and all the bad shit happening was the sun burning Arthur and Charles’ eyes. 

Dutch hadn’t thrown Micah out. He still trusted him and you had remained silent on your attacker. The evidence very clearly pointed back to the blond outlaw, but people are blind when they want to be. Half of the camp was undecided on wether or not they even cared if it was Micah or not. A few cared. A few were madder than hell. You’d think that’d count for something, but it didn’t make you feel better. 

It only really made you lean towards leaving even more. 

Arthur and Charles told you about their plans to leave the gang the same evening Charles sat with you under the tree. 

You were inside now sitting up on your cot. They moved you up into Arthur’s room in Shady Belle after the man did some serious reorganizing. The tool bench had been taken out completely so you could sit comfortably with some room when Strauss or Hosea or whoever came to check on you. 

It was a relief to be there. Too many nights waking up alone feeling like your body was eating itself alive. 

Charles sat on the side of Arthur’s bed and Arthur sat on the ground in front of you. 

“Now I don’t really know when we’d leave, or if we really have some place to make our own...” Arthur scratched his jaw and adjusted his leg under him.

“There’s an old cottage for sale up in West Elizabeth.” Charles said. “We’ll take you out there when you’re better to get a look.” 

“It’s nothin to marvel at but it’s got some land and it’s right next to a lake.” He sighed and leaned back. 

You looked at him quietly. He and Charles were looking just as worn and tired as you. You looked away and out the window. 

“Ghost..?” Charles’ voice was gentle. 

You blinked slowly and looked at the ground. They wanted to settle down with you.

“Is...” Arthur sat up a bit. “Is that alright with you darlin?” 

You looked back at both of them. They wore the same worried expression. You swallowed.

“You... want that...” you struggled, voice wavering. “With... me?” 

They looked confused now.

“Of course we do.” Arthur stated. Charles nodded. 

You closed your eyes. 

“Only if you do too.” Charles said quietly. 

You started nodding your head. Yes, yes, yes. Of course you did. You’d wanted that from the second you laid eyes on them. From the moment they touched your hand you wanted to go away with the two of them and never come back. 

You started tearing up through your nodding. Arthur made a soft noise and shifted up towards you.

“Hey now...” he scooted forward and pressed his forehead against yours. “You sensitive thing, you.” 

It wasn’t teasing. It sounded soft and loving. You reached out and put a hand on the side of Arthur’s head.

“Want it... too.” You murmured. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ur all incredible btw i appreciate all of u v much for sticking with me for this story

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Stuttering](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24925564) by [Crazyhotsoup](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crazyhotsoup/pseuds/Crazyhotsoup)




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